


One Existential, Smash-y Doctor

by Cowbario



Category: Dr. Mario (Video Games), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Super Mario & Related Fandoms, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, One Big Smash-y Family, and all the other guys in the hotel, and macdonal big mac, and the girls - Freeform, this was ages before the actual doc and puff interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-31 02:29:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20784671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowbario/pseuds/Cowbario
Summary: What does one do to heal, when healing is what they do? It would seem as if the answer does not lie within the bounds of medicine, but rather, the bounds of friendship, kindness and love.first fic go easy on me slugger





	One Existential, Smash-y Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One Big Smash-y Family](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470526) by [Audiomedic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audiomedic/pseuds/Audiomedic). 

A raggedy breath escaped into the air, only to be crowded into the other particles, losing its individuality and thus, its importance.

It’s funny how even his own breath gives him the message he’s nothing but a cheap clone with a medical degree and dry wit. Where did that get him? Nowhere. He’s done child’s play compared to that of his sink-fixing counterpart’s accomplishments. It just doesn’t add up.

“How in-a the **_hell _**did **_he _**do so much **_more _**than-a **_me_**?”

The doctor’s query was nothing, due to nobody being there. He’s also nothing, just that **_plumber _**with a doctor’s getup on, who heals the weak—

** _But the items have it covered for him. What’s the point? They don’t need him. They never have, and never will. They probably hate him, thinking he’s a wasted room in the hotel._ **

** **

The pill prescriber slammed his head against the wall in a cold sweat, panting from the extreme thoughts of worthlessness ran through his brain like Olympic athletes. Did it _really_ take him _this_ long to finally put that last puzzle piece known as the **_resentment_** towards the good do— no. Just the doctor.

“Th-there’s-a nothin’ good about me. Nothin’ original. I bet-a Mario is a doctor, t-too. And better at-a treating his patients with his _own_ form of-a prescription and d-diagnosis…and less of a b-bastard like-a me…”

Doc gazed at the lab coat strewn across the floor with sadness, anger and venom.

_You’ve done nothing to help me or others, you worthless piece of fabric._

He darted his eyes to his head mirror, which once rested atop his hair, now rested on his floor, only to find the dilated pupils of a failure staring back at him.

_I’ve never even used you before. What do you even do? Nothing. Like me. I should just throw you in the garbage._

The doctor leaned on his side, before quickly getting back up with a yelp, as a glass shard pricked him. He scowled at it, and threw it somewhere. Which just so happened to be where many other shards of many other sizes lay, with a bright red liquid spilt all over the floor.

_‘Strength’ Potion, huh? Then why is it whenever I drink it, I either feel no boost or weaker? You bring me no strength, you just seem to be clung to me like a moth is to a light. Well, let’s see how you manage when I **switch off**_.

The blue collar counterpart craned his neck at the stethoscope hung over his office’s doorknob. He breathed roughly and furiously through his teeth, squinting his eyes in disgust.

_Oh, you check for heartbeats? Too bad. Mine’s been as cold as ice for years now. No Chill virus even dares to combat it. You’d be better off in a broken heap…_

“L-like…like…”

The Smash medic clasped his hands over his eyes, his white gloves now stained with tears of pure hatred for himself, spewing all over his palms. There’s no helping a doctor. They help you, right? So they should _always_ be in tip-top shape, a smile on their faces as they tend to your wounds.

The clinical copy of Mario was too busy drowning in his own pity to notice the creak of his door open, the small gasp and even the soft footsteps of a concerned fellow fighter rushing to his aid.

* * *

Jigglypuff did not tend to wander around at night, due to having problems with napping during the day, which meant it would be better that she went back to her living quarters and got a good night’s rest.

Unfortunately, living in the Smash Hotel did not bode well for this.

So, tonight, the puffball decided that she should live a little and explore the Hotel when its inhabitants weren’t bouncing off of the walls like pinballs on bumpers. It was actually nice admiring the dark, but amazing, décor put up by…Mark I. Pliar? The guy who Nana hates, that’s him. No need to dwell on it for long, though.

The up and coming singer artist combo waddled quietly through the moon illuminated halls, looking and occasionally stopping at things of interest. After walking through the now much more fascinating kitchen (and perhaps taking a bite out of a few cookies from the jar and putting them back in), Jigglypuff bounced up back to her room, but just as she was about to push the door open, she heard a thump, coming down the hall.

“…puff?”

It sounded like it came from nearby all the ‘Melee’ section, as the big gloves call them. Nervously, the pink sandpoké-man hopped over, walking past doors whilst pressing her ear to them. A somewhat decent attempt to listen out for any more of those thumping noises. Just as she was walking past number 20, she heard a shaky breath from 18, that other Mario’s office.

She’d been there before, after she had accidentally deflated when the talking green bean Mario lookalike knocked the bread burning thingamajig on her head. The doctor looked very worried, and frantically searched for some sort of pumping device. Thankfully, he prevailed. She was fine, just needed pumping back up like a deflated tyre on that _rotten_ fat grumpy yellow Mario’s bike (which she _did not_ pop on purpose). The green guy wouldn’t stop crying though, so she tried to sing to him, but _of course_, her melodic voice caused her one man audience to take a power nap. This was when the doctor had left, so he wouldn’t suddenly hit the ground running…off to dreamland.

Woe is her. Shan’t she ever sing her tunes without putting one to slumber? The black blade she wielded got quite dull after such tragedies happening.

She slowly spun on her heel, to walk back over to the kind white coat Mario, seeing if he was alright.

Strangely, the door was open a tad, so she could peek into the room before entering it. What she was expecting was a scared patient, with the caring doctor tending to and soothing them.

She did not get that. What she saw was indeed a scared person, but, oddly, it was the _doctor_, and not his patient. Jigglypuff had her small mouth agape, looking with shock at the medical Mario crumpled into a sobbing heap of a fighter.

* * *

Without hesitation, she attempted all her procedures to make him feel better. She did everything she knew, back rubs, head pats, peek-a-boo, but unfortunately, nothing seemed to help him. Heck, she wasn’t even sure he was _even feeling **anything at this point**_.

With a small distressed sigh, she went for the failsafe.

Here she goes again, putting another poor audience member to bed prematurely. Although, this time, no markings shall be made on him, because the last thing a Mario copy like him needs is squiggles and a fake moustache…second moustache.

The pink bubblegum balloon cleared her throat, and begun her timeless, (self-proclaimed) beautiful song, but quieter as to not wake up the other residents of the hotel.

Or…

Anyhow, during the blissful ballad, Jigglypuff had her eyes closed to concentrate. What she didn’t hear, however, was the tears of the med school Italian stop, instead replaced by pure, bewildered, _genuine _feelings of amazement at how good of a singer Jigglypuff was, with a small feeling of pity as to how nobody had really heard her fully sing. She seemed to believe he drifted off, which is why she somewhat by muscle memory ended about halfway into it. The small hypersomniac made a tiny sad whine and turned around, waddling in defeat.

“W-w…wait.”

Jigglypuff’s right ear twitched, causing her to halt her movement. She looked around, before eventually turning to face the _supposedly_ sobbing doctor, only to find him red eyed, tired…but also, _shocked?_

“Th-that singin’…h-has nobody fully-a l-listened to it without dozin’…o-off?”

The diagnosis deliverer pushed himself off the wall with a grunt, opting to lay on the floor instead.

“J-jig?”

The tough puff had to admit it; her singing was rough. Not that _it_ was bad, it’s what it _did_. She seemed to be…‘gifted’…‘cursed’…_given_ the power of sleep, through her songs. Which was, surely to say, bad for somebody who wants to sing. Jigglypuff somewhat deflated at the thought, her face crumpling into one of regret.

Doc saw this and immediately back-pedalled, hard.

“W-wait, I-a didn’t m-mean to upset ya, kid…it’s-a just that…w-well…I kinda see-a me…i-in you.”

He got up, limping over to the small balloon Pokémon, before sitting down next to her. He sighed, rubbed a sweaty, gloved hand through his unkempt chocolate locks, and picked the pink spheroid up. Putting her on his lap, she looked up at him with a sad expression, not because he put her on his lap, but because she felt as if she was intruding on his own sadness.

It melted his heart like a Fire Flower to a Freezie, but he gulped down his regrets, without the help of a Strength Potion to aide him. He’d do this with his _own_ strength, even if it were tainted by his exhaustion. He let out a shaky sigh, before looking straight at her teal eyes with his sky blue ones.

“Lemme give ya it-a straight, kid. Life sucks. Well, I don’t-a mean like how a vacuum-a cleaner sucks, I mean as, like, how it can sometimes seem-a stacked against ya, like nobody seems to give ya the time of day, or-a night for that matter. What’s important is that, you sometimes just-a gotta take one step, and then again. Sure, you and-a I may have some pals to help us on occasion, but we’re mostly one-a hit wonders in the end of it, ain’t-a that right?”

Something clicked within Jigglypuff’s mind. She didn’t need an audience to sing well, what she needed was confidence. For too long she’s been falling on sleeping ears (literally) to show her talents. But now that this kind doctor has let her, she now knows what she needs to do.

Without a second thought, she lunged at Doc, grabbing onto his crinkly blue shirt and loosened red tie and cried. She cried all her fears out. She cried her thanks to him for showing her that even the best singer doesn’t need somebody to hear them to do well.

She cried, and so did he.

His floodgates opened, his own emotion stepping out into the world. His shame for feeling like a watered down copy. His regret for not doing well in life. His anger toward himself, his counterpart and everything and everyone.

He cried, and so did she.

After the waterworks had jammed with relief, the two had a moment to consider their choices.

“Hey, kid…”

The bubblegum fairy Pokémon looked up at her new friend, with a smile on her face.

“I’mma need some help tomorrow. Care to-a help this old man?”

A gasp escaped, going into the atmosphere. What was once a drab air, was replaced with the air of excitement.

“Haha, I’ll-a take that as a yes. C’mon, let’s get some-a sleep, eh?”

* * *

The door to Dr. Mario’s office creaked open, white shoes with a big red stripe stepping in. It closed shut, with the happy sigh of a young girl coming in.

Leaf had been coming here Elder God knows how long, it was less of a therapy session and more of a hangout at this point. Meh, who cares? Doc was a great guy! A bit of a grandpa at times, but she knows he means well.

“Hey, Doc! I’m ready to see ya now!”

The usual friendly but snarky greeting did not appear, in its place was the Pokémon Trainer’s confusion. She opened up his quarters door, to look for him.

“Doc? You here yet? _Doc?? D—_”

The words did not leave her lips, because what instead left her lips was a squeal so loud that it woke up the sleeping doctor.

“Baaahhh…who’s-a wakin’ me u—”

A camera flash burst into Doc’s face, leaving pesky rainbow eyefloaters in his vision.

“_GAH!!_ ‘EY! I AIN’T-A PLANNIN’ ON BEIN’ BLIND HERE!”

“_Omigoshimsosorrybutyoutwolookedsocuuuute!!”_

Doc shook his head rapidly, to spot the culprit.

“_LEAF! I AM TRYIN’ TO CATCH-A SOME SLEEP, BUT MY GLOVE AIN’T BIG ENOUGH!_”

Leaf was giggling loudly, so loudly that a few people walking by could hear it.

“Red _has_ to see this!”

“Ohohoho _no he-a does NOT!_”

Leaf scampered out of the room, Doc quickly throwing on his white housecoat and red and blue pill slippers on.

“Wahaha! Today’s gonna be a good-a day for the almighty WAAAARI-_**OOMPH**!_”

Sadly, the ‘good-a day’ Wario had hoped for ended when Leaf slammed the office door on him as he was walking by, only to leave with a hurried apology. The greedy glutton popped out of the Wario-shaped hole in the wall, flat as Mr. Game & Watch as he crumpled to the ground.

Waluigi, risen from his garage tomb, had seen his yellow friend-turned-pancake laying on the floor with a woozy expression. He nasally guffawed at his chum, before Dr. Mario diagnosed the purple man with PDS. Pancake Door Syndrome. He then _also_ crumpled to the floor, with Doc leaving without an apology, only a yell toward his friend about to humiliate him.

Meanwhile, back inside Doc’s bed, a small lump rattled around, to reveal a sleepy Jigglypuff now waking up from all the noise, with one little addition on her tired head.

A nurse’s hat.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy f-word which stands for fucking balls, this was super long to write, but was also super fun! This is my first actual fanfiction on here if you don’t count the chapter I did for the Elder God Origins fic. Please, tell me if it’s complete stinky poo poo. So long, gay bowsers!


End file.
